A Wind of White
by Yuechum
Summary: In one world, Tsuna is a boy with flames in his eyes and invisible wings on his back. In this world, he is a wind of white, the ferryman for the dead in this eternal expanse.


Hello! I originally wrote the beginning of this for Haikyuu, but thought Katekyo Hitman Reborn would fit it better. I've been listening to the Hell Girl OST lately with the rainy weather, and just had to write this. I hope you enjoy, thank you for reading!

* * *

In one world, Tsuna is a boy with flames in his eyes, invisible wings on his back propelling him to the skies where he soars without bounds. He is free, relishing in the feel of the air around him, the flames that caress his very soul. Companions and partners surround him, fond and affectionate of him all at once. They are loud and boisterous, but Tsuna enjoys the change they bring, the excitement to his daily life from their presence. He embraces all into his growing family, feeling the proud black eyes of his tutor at his back.

In this world, Tsuna is a boy who rows the boat of the dead forward, a constant motion that never changes. He craves stability, willing to sacrifice his heart and freedom for it. He sees history repeat itself over and over, sees the humans on the boat unable to recognize themselves. The river remains quiet as always, waiting to engulf an unusually curious soul. Tsuna continues to watch, rowing the boat forward to the gates of the Underworld where bony hands wait.

His movements are a wind of white, slow and flowing through the air. His reflection in the river draws people to him, feeling a sense of familiarity as if the moon from the world of the living was reflected in a pond. He uses this to an advantage, coaxing the people to take his hand and let him guide them on a journey. Little do the people know they are being guided to an eternal sleep, too comforted by the quiet white-haired boy. The people smile at him as he rows, and he offers a small smile in return.

Knowing their fates, it's the least he could do.

* * *

In this world, Tsuna has no sense of time. Whether he has stood on the banks of the river for a day or a year, he feels no difference, always content and bored all at once. He realizes there must be a passage of time in the upper world however, when he sees the clothing styles change, and the dialects shift with words he doesn't know.

As he walks slowly with sand gathering between his toes, he thinks that people must be fighting for different things too. In times of peace, the souls gathered here are clean, hands untainted from blood and sin. They accept death with ease, memories flowing out as rain droplets into the river. When they awaken next, they look at him peacefully, blending in with the rocking of the boat.

Others though, come from times of war. Their clothes leave a trail of blood behind them on the sand, and their eyes burn with an intensity, their hearts beating with regret. His words don't reach them anymore, and they look at him as if he were an enemy. Tsuna thinks it's unfair for them, how the people in front of him, exhausted from a neverending war, could have had peaceful lives were they born into a different time. But death reaches all, and does not discriminate. His job is to coax the people onto the boat, and send them through the gates to an eternal slumber. Their faces are peaceful then, the tension loosening from their bodies.

Sometimes, Tsuna thinks it's unfair for him to be like this too.

* * *

The souls he sees vary in all ages. Sometimes, he cradles an infant, watching it giggle and reach for his white hair. He lets them, plays with them for a time. The infants are overjoyed, reaching for him as he gently puts them on the boat. His eyes soften then, wondering how they could reach for a cold, empty body such as his.

Little children take him by the hand, and ask him to show them around.

"There isn't much to see here," he would say, voice clear and quiet. But the children look at him with smiles in their eyes and tug at the sleeves of his yukata. (He realizes later they were afraid. But once the last rain droplets fall from the sky, the fear at their fingertips fades away, and they stare at him in question. He introduces himself once more.)

Young adults come quietly, suspicious and wary of him. He looks about their age, and seems harmless, but the ethereal air around him makes them shudder. They are neither playful nor aggressive, and take his hand after a few moments.

Parents come with regrets hanging from their sleeves. Some scream at him, but he takes this in without a word, gray eyes closing. He bows to them, and offers his condolences. They are ones whose children had died before them, or ones who had to leave their children behind. The memories are harder to take, rain droplets falling slowly. But when the last drop melts into the river, he takes their hand and guides them to the boat.

The elderly are sweet to him, some jaded and some knowing what is ahead. Some pat his head softly, seeing him as a grandson to love. He feels a familiarity at the action, and takes their hand from his head in a comforting hold. They walk slowly to the banks of the river, where they thank him for his kindness. Tsuna thinks he should be thanking them instead, but is silenced when the eyes that stared at him now look at him without a hint of recognition.

"Hello," he says, "my name is Tsuna."

* * *

He is not truly alone in this world, not when he sees bubbles rise from the river, glimpses of other worlds reflected in their fleeting forms.

"Byakuran," he whispers, seeing the slithering form of the white snake before him. He cannot hold a human form here, his strength always alternating by the whims of his parallel selves. Some lose their power, sealed away in the form of a ring, while his other selves are dead. He takes on the form of a snake to not be absorbed by the hungry river, always wanting to consume.

Purple eyes narrow in greeting, an unearthly glint to them that has Tsuna feeling uncomfortable. The snake coils around him, dances around his neck as if he were to choke him. He sees a scene in a faraway bubble, a flame on his head, but eyes widening in fear as Byakuran strangles him. He thinks that Byakuran would enjoy a reenactment, always teasing him in his violent, mad way. Nevertheless, there is no choking sensation that binds him, merely two souls acting out the roles of their parallel living selves. Byakuran soon grows bored once more, and leaves like a child.

Tsuna is sure he isn't the only one trapped in time.

* * *

Yuni is a fickle one, appearing by his side one moment and then disappearing the next. She is both everywhere and nowhere at once, an effect of being the Sky Arcobaleno in parallel worlds, she had once said.

"We're awfully connected to our other selves," Yuni spoke to him once, he doesn't remember when anymore, but he guesses it has been years in human time.

"Yes, we are," Tsuna whispers as he pets the head of the bird Yuni has taken form of. She leans into his touch, before piercing blue eyes open to look at him.

"For one who is in the Vertical Space-Time Axis, you hardly move."

"True," he muses, not having felt the passage of time in so long, he feels as if he is betraying his own soul, flames that he doesn't possess in this world crying out at the suppression.

Yuni watches him, a smile playing on her lips, always knowing what is ahead. When he looks at her with a question in his eyes, she merely flies away.

"Another effect of being the Sky Arcobaleno," she says to the wind, disappearing before Tsuna could even reply.

* * *

Tsuna never reaches the gates himself, bony hands taking the soul away from him. The boat barely touches the gates, but Tsuna is at the edge, carefully away. He doesn't know what will happen to him, one who is on the edge of the dead and living, if he were to touch the fingers of thread and bone that await him. Curiosity has no benefit here, not when the naive and curious dip their toes into the river to drown a mere second later. He doesn't know what happens to the souls, but he doesn't wonder either. He presumes the souls must disappear from existence altogether, a void created that tips the balance of the world once more.

As he rows back to the sand, he sees slithering black shadows fade like wisps of fire. The demons of this world come out at times, the pads of their fingertips brushing against his skin. He shivers, feels a chill that racks his body, a stirring to his stomach. It isn't a sensation he particularly enjoys, but he doesn't collapse like the souls here do. He guesses that's why they keep coming back to him.

One demon that is particularly fond of him calls himself Reborn. His hair is a stark contrast to his, a black dark as the abyss, his eyes the same eerie shade. He takes on a form slightly older than him, but a much different form than the infant of the Arcobaleno he had seen in other worlds.

The wisps of fire that make up Reborn gather around him, shielding his eyes and nearly making him fall into the river. But fire coils around his ankles, preventing him from falling at the last moment. Nevertheless, he feels the burning sensation, and curses him. He sees the wisps of fire alternating in size, feels the reverberations of the demon's laughter before completely fading away.

Sometimes, Tsuna wonders what would happen if Reborn decided not to catch him.

* * *

On rare occasions, Tsuna chooses to walk along the bridge, creaking and shaking under him despite his weightless body. The world beyond is the same, a river painted by indigo hues, mist at all corners. He guesses that those with mist flames are the same no matter what world they are in, always teetering on the line between illusion and reality by their creations. Their flames touch upon his world, leaving their mark on the river.

Alone on this bridge with nothing but the mist to accompany his footsteps, he is reminded once more of the world that is far, far away from here. Bubbles come and go, but one catches his attention. He stops to look closer, and sighs at what he sees.

In this moment in another world, a parallel version of him has died to save his family's future, white lilies embracing him, a black coffin protecting him with the mark of Vongola that he had wanted to escape from. His family weeps for him, but it is small in number. Many have already perished under the hand of Byakuran, including the Arcobaleno that Tsuna had cherished deeply. When he looks back to the river, the scene is gone, the door to the parallel world closed. His world is empty, void of emotions, no sobs to be heard.

He thinks it's better this way.

* * *

He is reminded of how different his world is from others when he sees the people who would be his guardians. They do not recognize him, and even if they did, they would forget within a moment. He feels almost saddened by this, but he remembers the blood, the guilt, the regret, and the tears. He would rather choose this life, empty as it may be.

But nevertheless, he wonders how he ended up here, alone on the banks of the river with no memory but his name, much earlier than his guardians. He imagines an interference, where he is the main player in a game for one's amusement. While Vongola does not exist as it does in the other worlds, he thinks that the ring's power isn't as gone as once thought.

The guardians can be ruthless, and it shows in their wary stances towards him. He's seen their hearts from many worlds, and can guess the emotions hidden behind their eyes. They're all somewhat lonely, and Tsuna can't help but think how interesting it would have been if they were a family. He smiles at this little meeting of theirs, and takes their hand gently to the boat.

If the bony hands behind the gate noticed that he rowed a bit slower and talked a bit more, then they never made an indication.

* * *

The passing moments where he met his guardians remained in his memory as he lay on the sand. For him, these short-lived moments were enough, his inability to feel the passage of time making the seconds feel like a lifetime. He writes their names onto the sand, carves the memory to last forever. He feels the warmth in the air, sees Reborn burn the names to eternity, to never be washed away by the greed of the river.

He nods in gratitude, accepting the wisps of fire to coil around his hair and hands. He isn't one for affection, not in this world, but he smiles, feeling the eyes of fire at his back.


End file.
